


like a ritual

by DEATHEXECUTION



Category: Lords of Chaos (2018), Mayhem (Band)
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Consensual Blood Drinking, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Slight gore?, Vampire Pelle wow very original!1!1!1!, highkey?, idk how to tag this, it’s not bad lol, not really a kink tho, Øystein is low-key desperate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:13:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29478996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DEATHEXECUTION/pseuds/DEATHEXECUTION
Summary: Pelle is hungry and Øystein is awkwardly yearning for affection
Relationships: Euronymous | Øystein Aarseth/Dead | Per Yngve Ohlin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	like a ritual

**Author's Note:**

> gosh please don’t mind the shitty formatting and bad grammar it’s currently 3:44 am I’m so fucking tired and bored real insomnia hours

“You are beautiful.”

The blade drags across shivering skin, the quiet sound of flesh ripping fills the silence. A small flinch follows the sound, and everything stops.

Dead looks up from the pale arm, staring straight into the guitarist’s misty eyes.

“You’re getting far too ahead of yourself, Euronymous,” he scolds, his voice laced with odd... warmth.

This wasn’t anything new to them, it was like a ritual; a month old one, at that. And despite the familiarity of the routine, the pain was still so new — still too much.

The raven-haired man glances away, brows knitting as he frowns. He can’t do anything but mumble a disgustingly meek ‘sorry’ and silently hope that the worst part is over soon.

Pelle doesn’t reply, simply sighs inaudibly and looks back down at the Norwegian’s pale arm; underside stretched out towards him. It’s oddly symbolic, his boyfriend is offering himself to him, and Pelle gets a kick out of thinking about it. He finds it funny, yet disturbingly cute.

“I’m almost done,” the frontman states coldly, grim eyes tinted with wilderness, like a rabid beast, willing to lash out at any moment. It’s all due to the pretty red color against pale skin — blood.

Right, that’s the whole point in this routine; blood.

Euronymous didn’t really expect to ever date a vampire. Or, well, a self-proclaimed vampire (Øystein isn’t quite sure how legit the title is himself.) In fact, he had always imagined himself dating a busty woman of some sort; an interestingly mysterious one, at that.

Yet here he is; sitting on the cold wooden floor of his vocalist’s room, said vocalist slicing his wrist open as usual, only a few millimetres away from his scars, all from the past month or so of ‘feeding’, as they called it.

The knife falls to the floor with a clinking sort of sound, and the frontman of the band looks beyond satisfied when Øystein finally regains the courage to look up at him again.

“You’re bleeding a shit ton, man,” Pelle laughs, eyes full of amusement as he looks at his boyfriend once again. “You feel okay, right?”

It’s odd. Pelle’s doing the bare minimum right now, yet Øystein still feels his stomach flutter with _fucking butterflies_ at his words.

“Uh, yeah,” the Norwegian man chuckles, rather unnerved, yet fond. “Yes— yeah, uh, I’m okay. Go on.”

And that’s all Pelle needs to hear.

Øystein watches intently as the blonde leans down, pressing the warmth of his tongue against the open wound; licking a thick, long stripe across it, lapping the blood up.

He doesn’t mind the blood clots or anything of the sort, he joyfully laps the blood up like it’s second nature, and Øystein can’t help but just... stare. He’s in awe. Highly disturbed awe, but it’s awe nonetheless.

It takes a while, the wound bleeds and bleeds, and Pelle laps it all up like it’s his only source of food. It basically is at this point, anyway.

After a few more seconds of lapping at the no longer bleeding wound, the vocalist finally pulls away with a satisfied huff.

“Good. You’re not too bothered, are you?” the Swede asks, not really caring too much. He feels full enough and his sadistic intent is getting in the way of him showing any proper feelings— especially regarding the odd situation they’re in.

Øystein simply blinks once— twice. “Yeah,” he nods, exhaling — and before he knows it, he’s pulled up to his feet by the vocalist, with yet another wince and small, pained Yelp due to how the wound had been stretched.

“I’ll bring you some bandages. We can watch a snuff movie after that, if you’re still up for it,” Pelle states simply, before walking out of the room without another word.

Øystein nods, a little dazed from the blood loss, but he’ll manage. As long as ‘feeding’ makes Pelle’s interest in him peak, he’s fine with the side effects of blood loss.  
  



End file.
